The Valley of Bones (27 page)

After a while, Kedward returned,
saying Gwatkin was already with the Castlemallock Commandant, straightening out
the Bithel affair. When I saw Gwatkin later, he looked desperately worried.

‘That business of Bithel last night,’
he said harshly.

‘Yes?’

‘We’d better forget about it.’

‘OK.’

‘This Anti-Gas course is almost at an
end.’

‘Yes.’

‘Bithel goes back to the Battalion.’

‘He may be going up to Division.’

‘Bithel?’

‘Yes.’

‘What on earth for?’

‘To command the Mobile Laundry.’

‘I hadn’t heard that,’ said Gwatkin. ‘How
do you know?’

‘Bithel himself told me.’

Gwatkin did not look best pleased, but
he reserved judgment.

‘The CO will be glad to be rid of him,’
he said, ‘no doubt about that. The point of what I’m saying now is that Bithel
may have made a bloody swine of himself last night, but it’s going to be too
much of a business to see he gets his desserts.’

‘I can understand that.’

‘I suspect that Bithel himself got
hold of the Mess waiter concerned. Between the two of them, they are prepared
to swear that the whole thing was an accident. Bithel stayed in bed all day,
saying he had ’flu.’

‘How did the Commandant know about the
arrest?’

‘It leaked out. He seemed to think I’d
been officious. I suppose he was just waiting to get something back on me for
trying to prevent him from standing between me and my own men and their
training. He said Bithel may have had a few drinks, even too many, but, after
all, he’d been through the gas-chamber, and, as it turned out, was also
sickening for ’flu. The Commandant said, too, he didn’t want a row of that
undesirable sort at his School of Chemical Warfare. He’d already had trouble
about that particular Mess waiter, and, if it came up for court-martial, there
might be a real stink.’

‘Probably just as well to drop the
whole affair.’

Gwatkin sighed.

‘Do you think that too, Nick?’

‘I do.’

‘Then you really don’t care about
discipline either,’ said Gwatkin. ‘That’s what it means. You’re like the rest.
Well, well, few officers seem to these days – or even decent behaviour.’

He spoke without bitterness, just
regret. All the same, it was perhaps a relief to him – as it certainly was to
everyone else – that the Bithel charge should be dropped. However, matters had
gone too far at the outset for the whole story to be suppressed. Its discussion
throughout the Castlemallock garrison eventually spread to the Battalion; no
doubt, in due course, to the ears of the Commanding Officer. Bithel himself, as
usual, took the whole business in his stride.

‘I made a proper fool of myself that
night,’ he said to me, just before he left Castlemallock. ‘Ought to stick to
beer really. Whiskey is always a mistake on top of gin-and-orange. Might have
messed up my chances of getting that command. Captain Gwatkin does go off the
deep-end, though. Never know what he’s going to do next. The Commandant was
very decent. Saw my side. War news doesn’t look too good, does it? What do you
think about Italy coming in? Just a lot of ice-creamers, that’s my opinion.’

Then, one sweltering afternoon,
returning with the Platoon after practising attack under cover of a
smokescreen, I found several things had happened which altered the pattern of
life. When I went into the Company Office, Gwatkin and Kedward were both there.
They were standing facing each other. Even as I came through the door and saluted,
disturbance was in the air. In fact tension could be described as acute.
Gwatkin was pale, Kedward rather red in the face. Neither of them spoke. I made
some casual remark about the afternoon’s training. This was ignored by Gwatkin.
There was a pause. I wondered what had gone wrong. Then Gwatkin spoke in his
coldest, most military voice.

‘There will be some changes announced
in Part II Orders next week, Nick,’ he said.

‘Yes?’

‘You’ll like to know them before they
appear officially.’

I could not imagine why all this to-do
should be made; why, if there were to be changes, Gwatkin could not quite
simply state what the changes were, instead of behaving as if about to notify
me that the British Government had surrendered, and Kedward and I were to make
immediate arrangements for our platoons to become prisoners-of-war. He paused
again. Behaviour like this was hard on the nerves.

‘Idwal is your new Company Commander,’
Gwatkin said.

Everything was explained in a flash.
There was nothing to do but remain silent.

‘There have been other promotions too,’
said Gwatkin. He spoke as if this fact, that there were other promotions, was
at least some small consolation. I looked at Kedward. Then I saw, what I had
missed before, that he was in an ecstasy of controlled delight. I had not at
first noticed this to be the reason for his tense bearing. The air of strain
had been imposed by an effort not to grin too much. Even Kedward must have
realized this was a painful moment for Gwatkin. Now, the presence of a third
party slightly easing the situation, he allowed a slight smile to appear on his
face. It spread. He could no longer limit its extent. The grin, by its
broadness, almost concealed his little moustache.

‘Congratulations, Idwal.’

‘Thanks, Nick.’

‘And what about you, Rowland?’

I could hardly imagine Gwatkin was to
be promoted major. If that were to happen, he would be looking more cheerful.
There was a possibility he might be going to command Headquarter Company, an
appointment he was known to covet. I doubted myself whether he were wholly
qualified to deal with Headquarter Company’s many components, remembering,
among other things, the incident with the bren-carrier. All the same, I was not
prepared for the answer I received, even though I knew, as soon as I heard it,
that the sentence pronounced on him should have been guessed at the first
indication of upheaval.

‘I’m going to the ITC,’ said Gwatkin.

‘Pending—’

‘To await a posting,’ Gwatkin said
abruptly.

He could not conceal his own
mortification. The corner of his mouth worked a little. It was not surprising
he was upset. There was no adequate comment at hand to offer in condolence.
Gwatkin had been relieved of his Company. There was nothing more or less to it
than that. He was being sent to the Regimental Depot – the Infantry Training
Centre – whence he would emerge, probably posted to a Holding Battalion finding
drafts for the First Line. His career as a military paragon was at an end,
though not perhaps his visions as a monk of war, after the echoes and dreams of
action died away. Gwatkin might get a company again, he might not. His
Territorial captaincy at least was substantive, so that he could not, like
holders of an emergency commission, be reduced in rank. However, a captaincy
was not in every respect an advantage for someone who hoped to repair this
catastrophe. An unreducible captain could find himself in some dead-end where
three pips were by convention required, ship’s adjutant, for example, or like
Pinkus at Castlemallock. That would not be much of fate for a Stendhalian hero,
a man bent on making a romantic career in arms, the sort of figure I had
supposed Gwatkin only a few months before; in Stendhal, I thought this fate
would be attributed to malign political intrigue, the work of Ultras or
Freemasons.

‘You can fall out, both of you, now,’
said Gwatkin, speaking with forced cheerfulness. ‘I’ll straighten out the
papers for you, Idwal. We’ll go through them together tomorrow.’

‘What about the Imprest Account?’
asked Kedward.

‘I’ll bring it up to date.’

‘And the other Company accounts?’

‘Them, too.’

‘I only mention that, Rowland, because
you’re sometimes a bit behindhand with them. I don’t want to have to waste a
lot of time on paper work. There’s too much to do about the Company without
that.’

‘We’ll check everything.’

‘Has that bren been returned we lent
to the Anti-Gas School?’

‘Not yet.’

‘I shall want
it formally handed over again, before I sign for the Company’s weapons.’

‘Of course.’

‘Then Corporal Rosser’s promotion.’

‘What about it?’

‘Did you decide to make him up?’

‘Yes.’

‘Have you told him?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Then don’t tell him, Rowland.’

‘Why not?’

‘I want to see more of Rosser before I
decide he’s to have a third stripe,’ said Kedward. ‘I shall think about it
further.’

Gwatkin’s face took on a shade more colour.
These were forcible reminders of Kedward’s changed position. I was myself a
little surprised at the manner in which Kedward accepted the Company as his
undoubted right. In one sense, he could have behaved in a more tactful manner
about the take-over, anyway leave such questions until they were going through
the papers together; in another, as Company Commander designate, he was there
to arrange matters in the Company’s best interests – by Gwatkin’s own
definition – not to be polite or spare Gwatkin’s feelings. Nevertheless,
Gwatkin had not cared for being treated in this manner. He tapped with his
knuckles on the blanket covering the trestle table, played with his beloved
symbol, the rubber stamp. Gwatkin was deeply humiliated, even though keeping himself
under control.

‘I want to be alone now, boys,’ he
said.

He began to rustle papers. Kedward and
I retired. We went along the passage together, Kedward deep in thought.

‘Rowland is taking this pretty hard,’
I said.

Kedward showed surprise.

‘Losing the Company?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you think so?’

‘I do.’

‘He must have seen it coming.’

‘I don’t think he did for a moment.’

‘Rowland has been getting less and
less efficient lately,’ Kedward said. ‘You must have noticed that. You said
yourself something was wrong, when you came back from the Aldershot course.’

‘I somehow didn’t expect him to be
unstuck just like this.’

‘The Company needs a thorough
overhaul,’ said Kedward. ‘There are one or two points I shall want altered in
your own Platoon, Nick. It is far from satisfactory. I’ve noticed there’s no
snap about them when they march in from training. That’s always a good test of
men. They are the worst of the three platoons at musketry, too. You’ll have to
give special attention to the range. And another thing, Nick, about your own
personal turn-out. Do get that anti-gas cape of yours properly folded. The way
you have it done is not according to regulations.’

‘I’ll see to all that, Idwal. Who are
you getting as another subaltern?’

‘Lyn Craddock. He’ll go in senior to
you, of course. I think Lyn should help pull the Company together.’

‘When do you put your pips up?’

‘Monday. By the way, did I tell you
Yanto Breeze is to become a captain too – in the Traffic Control Company. I
just heard that this afternoon from one of the drivers who brought some stuff
here. It isn’t like getting a company in a battalion, but it’s promotion all
the same.’

‘Does Rowland know about Yanto?’

‘I was just telling him when you came
into the Company Office – saying it was funny two of his subalterns should become captain at
the same moment.’

‘How did Rowland take it?’

‘Didn’t seem much interested. Rowland
never liked Yanto. I don’t know whether all that about his sister rankled. I
say, Nick, do you know what?’

‘What?’

‘I’m going to write tonight and arrange
about the wedding on my next leave.’

‘When’s that going to be?’

‘Getting the Company may mean a
postponement, but even then it won’t be too far off. By the way, I’ve got a new
snap of my fiancée. Like to see it?’

‘Of course.’

We gazed at the photograph.

‘She’s altered her hair,’ Kedward
said.

‘So I see.’

‘I’m not sure I like it the new way,’
he said.

Nevertheless, he gave the photograph
its routine kiss before putting it away. His promotion, his fiancée, the
wedding in prospect, were matters of fact to him, not, as to Gwatkin, dreams
come true. When Gwatkin was given the Company, that must have seemed the first
important step in a glorious career; when he first took out Maureen, entry into
an equally glorious romance. Kedward, it was true, accepted accession of rank
with enthusiasm, but without the smallest romanticism, military or otherwise.
As Moreland would have said, it is just the way you look at things. We crossed
the hall. Emmot, the Mess waiter, appeared from a doorway. The whole Bithel
affair had greatly cheered him up. He looked positively a new man. It was hard
to believe he had been sobbing like a child only a few weeks before.

‘You’re wanted on the phone, sir,’ he
said, grinning, as if he and I had shared most of the fun of the Bithel incident,
‘your unit.’

I went to the telephone in the Duty
Officer’s room.

‘Jenkins here.’

It was the Adjutant.

‘Hold on a moment,’ he said.

I held on. At the other end of the
line Maelgwyn-Jones began to talk to someone in the Orderly Room. I waited. He
returned at last.

‘Who is that?’

‘Jenkins.’

‘What do you want?’

‘You rang up for me.’

‘What was it? Oh, yes. Here’s the
chit. Second-Lieutenant Jenkins. You will report to Divisional Headquarters,
DAAG’s office, by 1700 hrs tomorrow, taking all your kit with you.’

‘Do you know what I’m to do there?’

‘No idea.’

‘For how long?’

‘No idea of that either.’

‘What’s the DAAG’s name?’

‘Also unknown. He’s a new appointment.
Old Square-arse got bowler-hatted.’

‘How shall I get to Div HQ?’

‘There’s a truck going up tomorrow
with some details for hospital treatment. I’ll tell it to pick you up at
Castlemallock on the way. I expect you’ve heard about certain changes in your
Company.’